30 Prompt OTP Challenge
by Docile Boy
Summary: A series of drabbles and short one-shots.
1. Holding Hands

Prompt: holding hands

Sharon was unconscious; a tiny figure in a massive hospital bed, swathed in bandages that hid the damage flying glass and road gravel had done to her usually smooth skin. Despite the public's interest in them, high speed chases were dangerous to all involved and rarely turned out well, especially for the person being chased. In this case, it was the LAPD that had taken the brunt of the damage; specifically, Sharon. The other woman's stillness in the bed was unnatural to Brenda, although Sharon was frequently in some sort of contemplative repose, she was never like this, never limp like she was dead and without a superior (or thoughtful) smirk on her face. Sighing heavily, and hoping beyond hope that what the doctors told her was true, that Sharon would wake soon and that there was nothing wrong with her some rest and a few weeks taking it easy wouldn't cure, Brenda took Sharon's hand, practically the only part of her that wasn't bandaged, and sat down to wait.


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

Prompt: cuddling somewhere

Brenda felt as if she were being held hostage in her own home. Even though they were still very much uncomfortable with the fact that Brenda had taken up with her friend, the Captain in a way that was very much more than friendly, her parents had come for a visit. Because they weren't at all resigned to the situated (despite protests to the contrary on the phone in the weeks before the trip), every time Brenda and Sharon so much as brushed against one accidentally, they were forced to endure dual disapproving looks and frosty silences.

She was sick of it and she was through with allowing her parents to dictate how she interacted with Sharon, who had been very accommodating of Brenda's attempts to figure out how she wanted to handle the situation. Well, now she knew. Mind made up, Brenda scooted closer to Sharon on the couch. The other woman lifted an arm, letting Brenda lean against her in comfort; the large sectional sofa allowed for many cuddling positions, and had enough space that each woman could stretch out alone.

Brenda snuggled in, leaving a kiss on Sharon's neck, because she loved the feeling of Sharon's skin under her lips, and because it made Sharon hum in pleasure, and her father grumble. After that grunt of displeasure, silence reigned for a few tense moments, during which Brenda could feel her parents' eyes on her like lasers, burning into her flesh. She steeled herself and turned her attention back to the television, and to the sensation of Sharon's fingers twirling a lock of her hair in a slow, hypnotic rythym.

It wasn't till after the movie ended that her parents cornered her in the kitchen, as she was putting their popcorn bowls in the dishwasher. The presented a united front; both sternly disapproving.

"Is it really necessary for you to be behaving' this way with that woman?" Willie Rae asked, her voice throbbing with the affront she regularly used to manipulate her daughter. Brenda rolled her eyes and ignored the question, and them, going about her business straightening up the kitchen.

"It's just not right, what you're doin', Brenda Leigh," her father added gruffly.

Suddenly furious, Brenda whirled on them. "So fallin' in love and bein' affectionate with the person I've fallen in love with in our own home is terribly, terribly wrong?" She spat the question dangerously, daring them to answer.

"We're just not comfortable with see in' you like that, Brenda Leigh. I think when we're visitin', you could maybe…" her mother trailed off.

"What? Pretend that I have a roommate and that we haven't been sharing a bed for six months and that I'm not happier than I've been, maybe ever in my whole life? I should just ignore this wonderful person in my life because you and daddy are uncomfortable with us touchin'?"

Brenda glared at them fiercely, and they seemed embarrassed enough to not say anything more.

"I'm not going to do that, Mama, Daddy. If you aren't comfortable with Sharon and I touching, you are welcome to find a hotel. There is a very nice one if you head about a mile downtown."

Ignoring their outraged splutters, Brenda brushed past them, heading upstairs to where Sharon was waiting.


	3. Gaming

Prompt: gaming/watching a movie

Supremely annoyed, Sharon leaned across the couch and snatched the iPad out of Brenda's hands, flipping the case shut and tucking it where Brenda couldn't grab it back without reaching across Sharon's body.

"Hey!" Brenda protested. "I was about to take my turn!"

"You mean, you were about to take my turn," Sharon corrected. "You've been using up my turns in Words With Friends for weeks. My daughter thinks I've had a personality transplant because our vocabularies are completely different, not to mention you played the word 'queef' and then left me to deal with her outraged messages."

Brenda didn't respond, tilting her head down and away and crossing her arms over her chest.

"I told Andrea that I would prep you for this trial," Sharon said reasonably - to a woman that often resented attempts at reason. Brenda Leigh Johnson was much more comfortable relying on instinct than Sharon was, which was a big part of their early failures at communication.

Even through the curtain of Brenda's blonde hair, Sharon could see the scowl that transformed her face at the mention of the DDA.

"I don't wanna do trial prep. We always hang out on Fridays," insisted Brenda sulkily.

"I'd rather hang out, too, Brenda, but I though you'd appreciate doing this with me versus spending a large chunk of your weekend at the office doing it with Andrea."

Brenda turned her head, and Sharon was forced to confront that scowl head on. Sharon couldn't understand why Brenda was upset about the change of routine. They spent most Fridays on Sharon's couch, yes. And some other nights, too. They would crack a bottle of wine and pig out and watch something or chit chat. Sometimes Brenda would go home, other times she fell asleep on the sofa and Sharon would prod her into the guest room. It was low key and comfortable, but not exciting. Although Sharon sort of adored that Brenda had shouldered her way in to Sharon's life and made herself comfortable, she hadn't thought that their routine was something Brenda looked forward to - she had thought it something to pass the time now that Brenda was mostly single again.

"Our Fridays are important to me," Brenda asserted, no longer sulky, her eyes boring in to Sharon's like she was begging Sharon for some sort of recognition.

Sharon only had to ask herself 'recognition of what?' before she realized what Brenda's insistent eyes (and insistent presence in her life) were telling her. Sharon decided that maybe she should take a page from Brenda's book and trust what her instincts were telling her. She scooted closer to Brenda, their thighs weren't quite touching, but Sharon could feel the other woman's body heat through the fabric of her drawstring pants and Brenda's skirt. Placing a tentative hand on Brenda's upper arm, she had to remind herself to breathe.

"I didn't realize," she said softly. "I just like having you around - it doesn't particularly matter what we're doing."

"Oh," Brenda breathed, her gaze flicking down to Sharon's lips, or maybe it was to the cleavage exposed by Sharon's camisole and cardigan. "Well, that's ok then. It's just," she began, then flushed and look down at her hands. "It makes me jealous when you talk about DDA Hobbs," she blurted out in a rush of words.

Sharon couldn't help it; her jaw dropped.

"She really likes you, I can tell. And she's probably more of a sure thing than I am, and lord knows I'm hard enough to deal with under the best of circumstances, let alone in a relationship, but I really, really like you and I want to be more than just your friend, and I definitely don't want her to be more than your friend."

Brenda was babbling. Brenda was jealous of Andrea Hobbs. Brenda wanted to be more than friends. Sharon grinned, certain that they could work out the details later; plus, they still had trial prep to complete. Andrea Hobbs would kill them both if Brenda blew her testimony next week.

Leaning in, heedless of the stream of words Brenda was still spouting, Sharon pressed her lips to Brenda's. Brenda emitted a tiny, surprised squeak, then Sharon found herself being kissed quite enthusiastically. When they broke apart, the blonde woman was sporting a slightly dazed, but glowing smile. Sharon was smiling too, but they had work to do.

"This doesn't get you out of trial prep, Brenda Leigh."


	4. On a Date

Prompt: on a date

Second Chances

Brenda's favorite Chinese place didn't have delivery, which was unfortunate because it meant she didn't get there as often as she'd like, settling instead for the decent place near her apartment that had quick delivery. It was a surprise to walk to the hostess station and catch sight of Sharon Raydor sitting in an intimate booth opposite a man. A handsome older man in what looked like an expensive suit. Sharon was dressed to the nines, her hair soft and shining, tumbling down over her bare shoulders. Brenda was fairly certain that the black dress the other woman was wearing probably exposed a bit of cleavage. Sharon wasn't too shy to display her best physical assets to good effect, and Brenda appreciated that about her. In fact, that's what had gotten her in to trouble - why seeing Sharon in a beautiful dress, faking a smile at her date made Brenda want to vomit.

Two weeks ago, they had kissed. After eons, in Brenda's estimation, of flirting and shyly expressed interest on their parts, Brenda had, late one night when they were alone in the murder room, sidled up to Sharon and kissed her very gently on the lips. It hadn't been unwelcome, Brenda knew that; Sharon had kissed her back. Then she had torn out of Brenda's office like her ass was on fire, refusing since to speak to Brenda about anything that wasn't strictly case related.

It hurt. Brenda, after the stresses and disappointments of the past 12 months - losing a husband, her job coming under intense scrutiny, the judgment of her parents regarding her separation - had been excited about the prospect of a romantic relationships with Sharon, expanding the solid, quiet friendship they had developed during the lawsuit. Now she didn't even have that.

A waiter approached with Brenda's food and she took it, turning one last pained look Sharon's way, not breaking her gaze when Sharon's eyes found hers. Blinking away tears that were both frustrated and sad, Brenda left the restaurant.

The TV in her new apartment blaring, some chef cursing at an unfortunate young man who was also a chef, Brenda curled up with an oversized bowl of shrimp lo mien. Joel hopped up on the arm of the sofa and meowed silently at her her. She fished a noodle out of her bowl and fed it to him; he looked expectantly at her, wanting more.

"Oh kitty, you're so bad," she cooed, giving him a fond scratch behind the ears, then turned her attention back to the television. Maybe she'd get another kitty - they didn't kiss and run at least.

She was halfway through her bowl when there was a knocking on the door. Joel spooked and jumped off the couch, darting away in to the apartment.

Brenda slid her bowl onto the coffee table, grumbling her displeasure at being pulled away from her food and her reality television. Yanking the door open, she gasped when she found Sharon standing there. Then, she got angry; two weeks of radio silence, and now the one person she had wanted to see more than anyone else had come for a visit after a date with some guy.

"So how was your date," Brenda sneered, not standing aside to let the other woman in as she clearly wanted.

"Bad. And boring." Sharon tried a small smile. "Can we talk?"

"Now you wanna talk? I think it might be a little late for that." A hard front to mask the fact that she desperately wanted to give in.

"Please, Brenda. Please. I owe you an apology. And an explanation."

Brenda softened. Sharon had always been so sincere with her. And she looked so beautiful tonight. That serious, pained expression coupled with the green eyes that Brenda had increasingly found herself becoming lost in drew her right in…she couldn't resist. She stepped back, fighting the urge to touch the other woman as she brushed past; the curves of her body under that dress called out to Brenda's fingers, just as they had done for months.

Sharon didn't even make it to the couch before turning and blurting: "It scares me how strongly I feel about you, Brenda Leigh. Terrifies me." She wrung her hands together and looked at Brenda beseechingly. "I was scared because everything became so real when you kissed me - so I ran."

"You really hurt me, Sharon. More than Fritz, more than Goldman, more than Pope scrutinizing my every move." Brenda blinked away tears. "You were the one person I thought I could count on, and I thought we were starting something special, and then you were just gone. You were right there with me, I know you were, and then you left me all alone."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I was right there with you, and then I panicked. I'm here now, Brenda. If you'll have me," she said, extending a hand to Brenda as she reached out with her words.

"You can't run away from me again, Sharon," insisted Brenda fiercely. She'd already made up her mind that she wanted this; perhaps she even wanted it enough that if Sharon ran again, she would chase after her. Those sad jade eyes and that worried little line her mouth made, more pronounced in this situation that it had ever been, made Brenda melt a little inside. She took Sharon's offered hand; it was the first tie they'd touched in this way - they hadn't touched much at all, really, beyond that kiss. Sharon's hand was soft and thin with long, slender fingers. Brenda squeezed the offered hand, but didn't make any other move. Sharon would need to do that; Brenda had taken the risk the first time and she needed Sharon to take that step this go 'round. She wasn't disappointed.

Sharon slid an arm around Brenda's waist and pulled them together gently. They didn't kiss again, yet. Brenda's bare feet put her at the perfect height to rest her head against Sharon's shoulder and enjoy their first real embrace.

"Thank you," Sharon whispered, leaving a kiss on Brenda's forehead. "Thank you."


	5. Kissing

Prompt: kissing

The first time she kissed you was after the summary judgement. A peck on the cheek in the midst of bad champagne and a bunch of relieved police officers. You flush - can feel the blood coloring your cheeks red as clearly as if it were paint on your face. You are sure Brenda knows that you are attracted to her, and knows the effect she has on you when you're in close proximity to one another, but her thanks (and the kiss) seem genuine.

In practice, Brenda's gratitude made you that much more willing to work hard on her behalf, especially considering gold man's revelation later that very same day. For you, Brenda's soft lips on your skin sends you spiraling headlong into love. You know it's ridiculous, but it couldn't be helped, and you pull that memory out in quiet moments to worry between your mental thumb and forefinger like a smooth and familiar stone.

As the months pass, your affection for Brenda increases, despite her mercurial temper and her sometimes flagrant disregard for procedure. Her gratitude continues to be genuine, and she now calls on you to protect her and to guide her. It is a bit of a power trip sometimes, having the confidence of a woman as cagey as Brenda Leigh Johnson. You do your best not to let her down - to keep that confidence, to increase it even, and it seems to be working. Now when the two of you clash, it's because Brenda wants you to challenge her, to point out the flaws in her thinking in order to advance a case. It is exhilarating.

The next time she kisses you, she's leaving. She's turned in her resignation, recommended you of her former position, and has just come from saying goodbye to the squad she thinks of as family. Brenda comes to your office, tells you she couldn't leave without saying goodbye. You aren't exactly sure what she means; you're terrified it means she is leaving forever.

She kisses you on the cheek again, but this time she lingers, and a small, cool hand cups your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut of their own accord, and you breathe in the powdery, floral scent of her, fixing this moment in your memory, another stone for you to worry. Brenda is beautiful in her suit and bright pink shirt, her hair in a smooth ponytail. You don't miss the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. You blink back a few of your own.

You're busy with the take over of Major Crimes, and with Rusty, but it surprises you that you aren't too busy to miss her. It certainly doesn't make it easier that Rusty keeps asking for her and you know the squad is judging your every move against the standard of their Chief.

About two weeks after your first case as head of the division, she sends you a text message, and a weight lifts off your shoulders. Brenda has been fighting with her father and brothers over living arrangements for Clay the elder. Brenda is bored and misses the stimulation of crime solving. Brenda is coming back to LA next week to start her new job and is excited. Will Sharon have lunch with her sometimes soon?

Lunches turn in to dinners with Rusty and then weekend activities together. She is understand when you have to cancel because of a case. She has come to your rescue more than once, never refusing a last minute call pleading for assistance with a pick or for a substitute chaperone for the boy that is quickly becoming your third child. You notice her wedding rings disappear about six weeks after her return to LA; you don't ask about it and she doesn't offer. You certainly don't question her motives for becoming your go to woman for all domestic crises; if the truth isn't what you hope, it could break you, and you cherish this unorthodox little family too much to risk it.

The tipping point comes not long after Daniel Dunn's ignominious departure from your lives. Rusty has been subdued, but you let him brood - he's shown before that issues with his biological parents are something he needs to mull over. You're crawling out of your skin though, just a little. With no case, Rusty in his room, and no Brenda, it's too quiet.

The latest edition of the local ballet's newsletter is doing nothing to hold your attention, when there is a knock at the door. Brenda has been in Atlanta for the last five days, but now she is here, looking as if she came straight from the airport. She looks at you intently, trying to ascertain what, you don't know.

This is the first time you kiss her, on the cheek, for caring, and for being there. She is, you realize, absurdly pretty when she blushes.

Before you are really cognizant of what is happening, you are on the couch and she is in your lap and you are kissing for real. Her are hands resting lightly on your chest, close enough to your breasts that you could arch your back and she would be touching them. Your hands, of their own volition, grip her waist. Brenda sighs against your lips and relaxes against you, her tongue delicately seeking entry in to your mouth.

You kiss and kiss and kiss. Brenda's hands drift down until she is palming your breasts, and her hips are moving; she is thrusting against your belly, seeking friction. You want to give it to her, but you also don't want to take your hands off her ass, where they strayed to guide her needy little motions. Before you can just give in and unbutton her jeans, the sound of the bathroom door closing in the back of the condo makes you jump apart. Did Rusty see? Did it matter right now? You could talk to him tomorrow. Hopefully over breakfast with Brenda.

"Come to bed with me?" You ask her, taking in her flushed face and lidded eyes; blushing Brenda has nothing on aroused Brenda.

She nods and levers herself off your lap, offering a hand to pull you off the sofa. The two of you pad back to your bedroom and you usher her in, excited and nervous, wanting her to feel comfortable and wanting to take up exactly where you'd left off.

You click the lock and turn around; her shirt is on the floor and she's shucking her jeans off, her back to you. Torn between catching up to her state of undress and assisting her, you pull Brenda down to the bed, finding her lips with yours again.


	6. Sharing Clothes

Prompt: Wearing each other's clothes

Brenda entered the lobby of LAPD HQ and stepped into a riot. Or a war zone. Three concurrent gang-related struggles had spread from the streets into the holding cells of stations around the city, and from there, into the prisons. As a result, not only were gang members riled up, but the common riffraff were as well. She had been called in on her first day off in well over a week, but if things were this bad, she couldn't be angry at the interruption to her lazy day on her couch. Alone.

A scuffle broke out in corner, and Brenda heard a familiar voice shouting over the din. Sharon was in the midst of the fray, a baton in one hand and a taser in the other. She looked pissed, like some kind of avenging goddess in Armani suit-pants and a sleeveless button down blouse. Her normally bountiful hair was tamed into a messy bun, and those impeccably tailored pants were tucked in to a pair of tactical boots - stilettos weren't exactly practical for playing riot police.

Brenda was impressed by Sharon's willingness to get her hands dirty, and by her commitment to non-lethal force. Going up against a woman armed with a taser and a police baton, both held professionally low, was not a tempting prospect.

With no warning, a young man broken free from the police officer restraining his arms and lunged for Sharon, perhaps seeing her as less of a threat than the men armed with guns. Brenda heard herself shout as Sharon got a good swing off with her baton, making contact on the man's left elbow, but couldn't get rebalanced quick enough to zap him with the taser before being tackled to the ground. Brenda was running then; it wasn't something she'd consciously chosen, but she was running towards the fallen woman. Of course others got there first; three officers pulled the gang member off of Sharon, jerking him roughly into a standing position. He was howling, attempting to pull his left side out of their grasp.

Brenda hit her knees next to Sharon's still prone form, ignoring the aggrieved shouting about a broken arm. Sharon groaned and propped herself up on her elbows. There was a cut on her cheek and her lip was split and both were sluggishly leaking blood down her face.

"Are you ok?" Brenda asked softly.

Sharon sat up fully, groaning again. Her shirt gaped open - two buttons had been torn off and the placket was ripped - exposing a lacy, lilac bra and a considerable amount of cleavage. Sharon reached up to hold the shirt shut, wincing as she did so.

"I took a good knock - I'll probably be sore as hell tomorrow," she answered, glaring as they dragged the still-screaming young man off to the pens underneath the building.

"Come on." Brenda stood and stooped to grasp Sharon's elbow. "Let's get you cleaned up. Do you have an extra shirt?"

"This was my extra shirt," Sharon opined, standing slowly. She didn't appear to want to stand up straight. Brenda slipped a supporting arm around the other woman's waist; she wasn't going to let Sharon limp her way painfully to the elevators by herself.

"I've got an extra shirt in my office. And a first aid kit."

Sharon sort of melted when Brenda got her settled in one of her office chairs. The murder room was empty; all of the Major Crimes detectives had been apportioned out to other precincts and other commands, leaving Brenda to man the fort and help however she could. And right now she could help by patching up the head of FID, who had to be very busy with so many prisoners in cells across the city.

Sharon had given up the fight with her shirt and was slumped back in the chair, eyes shut, looking absolutely wrecked. Brenda's gaze was drawn to the abundant, freckled flesh of Sharon's spectacular rack, certainly more on display than she had ever had the pleasure of observing. Feeling herself blush, she turned away to dig in her credenza for the cami and cardigan she had stashed away.

She had been noticing Sharon with increasing frequency lately, and this might be more than her nerves could handle. Sometimes she felt like a teenager around Sharon, trying to figure out how to handle her attraction without turning into a stuttering mess. She surfaced with the clothing and the first aid kit and turned to her patient.

Perched on her desk in front of Sharon, Brenda leaned forward, an alcohol soaked cotton ball clutched in one hand. She didn't quite know what to do with the other one, so she rested her weight on the arm of the chair Sharon was occupying. It felt kind of like she was leaning in for a kiss. Her hands started shaking. Sharon was being remarkably docile, though, sitting expectantly with her eyes shit, which was a blessing, because Brenda was a nervous wreck.

"This is gonna sting some," she murmured before dabbing the cotton ball on Sharon's cheek. The older woman hissed, but didn't pull away, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. Almost of its own accord, Brenda's other hand came up to Sharon's chin to steady her against the motion of the cotton ball as it wiped away the traces of blood.

Brenda moved to the cut on the Captain's lip. Sharon hissed again, and Brenda felt the rush of air across her fingers. She whimpered. She couldn't help it. The intimacy of air from Sharon's lungs across her skin was more than she could be expected to deal with, really. Was that a smirk on Sharon's finely drawn lips? Brenda soldiered on, ever so gently wiping at the split skin. She was trembling; she knew Sharon had to be able to feel it.

Though she was satisfied that the cuts were clean, Brenda was reluctant to pull away. Who knew she'd have a chance to be this close to Sharon again. She kept dabbing, hoping that the other woman wouldn't realize she wasn't really doing anything, just experiencing the closeness, when something extraordinary happened. Sharon's tongue swept delicately across her lips, brushing against the tips of Brenda's fingers. Brenda gasped and pulled away. Sharon grinned up at her knowingly.

"You said you had something I can put on?" Sharon asked, flapping the ripped placket of her shirt significantly. She didn't seem to mind that she was putting on a show for Brenda; in fact, she seemed to be enjoying displaying her breasts in their pretty, lacy bra.

Flustered, and not knowing what to make of Sharon's preening, Brenda grabbed the clothing from her desk and handed it to the other woman.

"Thanks." Sharon took the clothes with a little smirk. She stood and turned and neatly draped the garments over the back of the chair and then began unbuttoning her shirt. Brenda knew she should leave, and give Sharon some privacy, but Sharon hadn't asked for any, and the possibility of seeing more of Sharon was more than she could resist.

Sharon slid the ruined shirt off her shoulders. Her back was toned and smooth, and her shoulders were dotted with the same freckles that also decorated her chest. Flared hips with just enough extra flesh to look eminently grabable. There were little dimples that were partially obscured by the waistband of her pants. Brenda wanted to kiss them, and then kiss up her spine and press her lips to each and every freckle. Brenda might have whimpered when Sharon pulled the camisole into place.

"Mmmmmm," Sharon hummed amusedly, turning back around to face Brenda. "I think it might be a little tight."

She wasn't exaggerating. Sharon's breasts looked as if they were going to come popping out of the tank top just from sheer lack of space.

"Nuh," said Brenda, meaning to say 'that is possibly one of the most attractive thing I have ever seen in my life.' Maybe 'nuh' was a better choice, after all. Brenda managed to drag her eyes away from all that bountiful flesh and up to green eyes that were sparkling mirthfully at her.

"You know," Sharon purred, stepping closer, within touching distance. "I'd been looking for a way to break the ice between us, and this has certainly done the trick."

Brenda gaped. "Did you hit your head down in the lobby?" She asked skeptically, narrowing her eyes and wondering when the other shoe was going to drop and Sharon was going to pass out from a head injury.

"We've been dancing around each other for months, Brenda," soothed Sharon. "I assure you I am not concussed."

"Ooookay," Brenda stuttered. "I just never thought you'd be so…" She struggled for a word. Forward? Saucy?

"Blatant?" Suggested Sharon. "It was hard to resist tweaking you a little, what with the way you were eyeing me."

Brenda blushed furiously.

"Don't be embarrassed. I'm not adverse to a little mutual ogling." She reached out to drag a finger across Brenda's knuckles. Brenda shivered. How was it that the last five minutes had been one of the most erotic experiences of her life?

"I would ask you to dinner tonight, but I doubt this crisis will be resolved by them. So maybe I can cook for you sometime in the next few days?"

Brenda smiled shyly at the woman who had surprised her once again. "I'd really like that."

The smiled she received in return was luminous, and Sharon edged even closer, leaning in slowly.

"What about your lip?" Brenda whispered just before their lips met. Sharon's crinkled up in a smile Brenda couldn't see.

"Let me worry about that," she answered, then kissed Brenda sweetly, short-circuiting

Brenda's brain for a few heart beats.

After they briefly explored this new aspect of their relationship, and Brenda had regained control of her faculties, Brenda looked down at the cleavage that she didn't want anyone else to be seeing in such a state.

"Can I offer you Lieutenant Gabriel's LAPD windbreaker?"


	7. Cosplaying

Prompt: Cosplaying (I interpreted this rather liberally)

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Brenda complained, plucking at her white dress. She was slumped in the passenger set of the Jag, wearing a truly spectacular pouty face, nose wrinkled derisively, and refusing to make eye contact with Sharon out of sheer pique.

"You're just upset because I picked Han Solo and not slave-girl Leia for my costume," countered Sharon evenly, smirking at Brenda's antics. And at her massive, fake ear buns.

"Damn straight I am. You looked hot in that metal bikini thingy."

"And it was totally inappropriate for an evening with Marcus at his school sponsored Halloween carnival."

"Pish," scoffed Brenda, and Sharon rolled her eyes, pulling into the Kinlan's driveway and putting the car into park. She turned to look at the woman dressed as a blonde 'A New Hope' Princess Leia.

"Brenda Leigh Johnson, you will never convince me that you are anything but excited to be going to a venue where there is candy to be had, so quit your pouting before Marcus sees you and maybe I'll put on the metal bikini again before we have to return it to the costume rental place."

That perked Brenda up. "You promise?"

"I promise." Sharon sealed the promise with a kiss before exiting the car to meet a very excited Anakin Skywalker.


	8. Shopping

Brenda nervously followed Sharon into the tiny storefront; buying bras had never seemed like a big deal - she usually just grabbed a couple that looked like they might fit (big, understaffed department stores were best because no one would mother her), and high tailed it out of there. She hadn't even realized that that was not the way every women shopped for bras until she'd begun sleeping with another woman. A woman who would cluck concernedly over the deep furrows left in Brenda's shoulders and massage the flesh gently to help restore circulation.

Sharon had a point, Brenda supposed, as her breasts were larger and her shoulder were never scored by her lingerie, though Brenda wasn't sure she wanted to give up her near-daily shoulder massages. She also wasn't sure she wanted some salesperson's hands on her body to fit new bras; that was much more intimate that she was comfortable with from anyone but her lover.

Sharon shooed away the very eager woman who pounced on them as soon as they entered, ushering Brenda over to the display of bras.

"Just pick a bunch - you need to try everything on to make sure it fits properly."

"I hate doin' this," Brenda whispered, ducking her head to make sure the saleswoman wasn't within earshot. "Gettin' naked in store dressin' rooms."

"Will it make you feel better if I try some things on, too?" Offered Sharon as compromise. It'd taken some work to get Brenda here with her today - she didn't want the other woman to bolt now.

"Can I pick out the styles?"

Sharon nodded her assent.

"Ok, so long as you're in the dressin' room with me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

To say that the saleswoman gave them the side-eye as they entered a single dressing room, both with armfuls of silky lingerie, would be an understatement. Sharon flipped the lock on the door, then dumped her bundle on the small bench that sat caddy corner to the full length mirror. It would have been a generously sized fitting room for one, but for the two of them, it was a snug fit.

Brenda sat herself on the bench next to Sharon's pile, reining her own choices into her lap to keep them from spilling onto the floor.

"You first," she murmured. "The black one with the itty bitty cups, please."

The black one with the itty bitty cups was one that Brenda had spotted amidst the lovingly designed displays and vociferously insisted that Sharon should try on. Sharon couldn't help but smirk; their sexual chemistry and desire to just get bare-assed already meant they'd not yet ventured into the realm of erotic lingerie. It was interesting to discover Brenda's tastes after so many months.

Unbuttoning her blouse, she caught Brenda's gaze and held it. Brenda blinked up at her placidly - Brenda never did anything placidly. The sleep-eyed look was classic Brenda Leigh trying to disguise her interest. She pushed the blouse off her shoulders and handed it to Brenda, who clutched it in excited fingers. The bra Sharon had put on that morning was no slouch in the sexy department - a blunge with a front clasp - as she like to show a bit more cleavage on the weekends, just because she could. She handed that to Brenda as well, whose feigned disinterest had vanished. A nude Sharon trumped her little game any day of the week.

Sharon disentangled the bra that Brenda had requested from the others, slid the straps over her arms, and settled her breasts into the cups. (The very tiny cups.) There was just enough fabric attached to the underwire to give her boobs a boost, leaving her areolae and nipples bare.

"Oooo," Brenda purred, reaching out for Sharon's hips and turning her bodily. Brown eyes glowing, Brenda was looking up at Sharon through her eyelashes, teeth pulling at her lower lip seductively. Sharon gave it about three seconds before those lips were wrapped around one of her nipples.

"We're not having sex in this fitting room, Brenda Leigh," Sharon whispered firmly. Brenda ignored the warning and laved Sharon's left nipple with the flat of her tongue. It hardened, puckering under the familiar stimulation, the other following suit.

Sharon bit back a groan; they really couldn't (and shouldn't) do this here, even if she was turned on and flattered and not adverse to a little exhibitionism, but this was a small store, and neither of them were inclined to be quiet whilst in the throes of love making.

Feeling another compromise was in order, Sharon cupped Brenda's face in her hands and guided her gently upwards, redirecting her attention into a deep kiss. She tried not to let the feeling of Brenda's hands stroking her sides distract her, but it was a struggle.

When they broke apart, Sharon turned a little, and nodded down at the tag that was attached to the strap of the bra.

"Why don't you pull that off for me."

Brenda's eyes widened. "You're gonna wear it out of the store? Aren't we goin' for lunch and groceries?"

"Yes and yes."

Brenda chuckled, focusing her attention on unloosing the little bit of ribbon that secured the tag to the bra. "You're bad, Ms. Raydor," she said, handing Sharon the little piece of paper. Sharon merely smirked.


End file.
